


spread your wings and come home to me bluebird

by sicklikewinter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicklikewinter/pseuds/sicklikewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>and i will love you bluebird.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	spread your wings and come home to me bluebird

**Author's Note:**

> this hurt a lot to write  
> it hit me hard

He sings to you sometimes, through scratchy-hazy screens from a noise riddled skype video chat, and it’s always been your lullaby. He tells you about the morning sunrise, and you tell him about the constellations that litter the skies. His favorite he tells you about excitedly, blue eyes wide and filled with awe, is the big dipper. You laugh at him about that, the idea that his favorite was basically a giant cup amusing, but he doesn’t take it to heart. Your blue-eyed wonder simply smiles at you and waits for your laughter to subside before explaining.

“I know that no matter what, when I look at the sky… I can always be assured that you’re looking at the same star too! It’s like… we’re always together…” his voice goes static-y via the skype call, and you have to strain with your headphones on and volume blared as he continues to speak, “…I miss you Dave.” And it breaks your heart all over again, and you can feel the ache beneath your chest; your blue eyed wonder—your singing bluebird lost so far far far away from you—who hurts because of the distance between you.

He doesn’t stop smiling though, and that is what makes your heart ache more. You put your hand on your laptop screen—something oddly sentimental only  _he_ gets to see and he laughs laughs  _laughs_  at you for it—and you quirk your lips upward. His smile brightens, blue eyes water filled and near ready to start spilling tears.

“I love you John.”

“I love you Dave.”

Your voices blend together into a soothing melody that will keep you going another few hours, and you watch as he tries to hide a yawn. You frown at him and pull your hand from the screen.

“Did you seriously stay up all this time just to catch me?” Your voice is obviously scolding, but you don’t really mean it. It makes your heart race to know that he’d stay and fuck his sleep schedule up just for you, and you choke back a muffled sob of emotions. It’s been so long since you’ve held or kissed or seen him in high definition instead of a static filled skype screen call, and you can feel it wearing on your soul. John looks sheepish as he yawns again. He shakes his head rapidly, a slight lag in the call the only annoyance you’re feeling right now, and smiles brightly.

“Hahaha I took another shift at work to try and save up more money! I want to come visit you during the summer and I’m going to need a good amount of money to spend you know!” his voice is flippant, the twinge of his oriental accent shining through—a reminder that he lives continents away from  _you_ —and it makes your heart leap.

(your bluebird is going to sing himself hoarse trying to call out to you, and his wings are going to fall apart if he tries to push too hard)

There’s a moment where he pauses, mid-sentence on the tip of his tongue, and you inhale sharply at the pause. You wait for something bad, terrible even, to come out of his lips—we cant do this we should stop i cant do this—and break your already pieced together heart further, but nothing like that happens.

“Please don’t get too upset about me taking more shifts! I promise when the summer comes it’ll be fine okay?” his voice is frantic, and you can feel hot tears running down your cheeks. You’re positive that’s what made him backpedal so fast.

“I’m going to fucking punch you dude, like, right in the arm and really fucking hard. You’re going to get yourself sick and shit man if you overexert yourself, so don’t do that,” you can’t help it. You’re on the defensive as you try to mother him, a habit you hate but he seems to adore. He laughs, thick and filled with tears and he’s shaking his head back and forth.

You frown as he continues to laugh, and you roll your eyes behind your shades. He finally ceases and looks up at you; red eyed and yawns once again. There’s a yawn wanting to escape as you watch him and he finally catches on. He smiles brightly, your lovely and bright eyed bluebird loves you so much not even the distance can hurt his smile, and waves at you.

“You should go to bed Dave, okay? It’s really late where you are, huh?” his voice is calming and you don’t want the call to end. You inhale sharply and shake your head rapidly in disagreement. It’s only 4:34 AM, still enough time to talk with him, you’re barely tired (lie). You could go on another four hours (another lie)!

“I… dude I can go on forever for you man.”

“You’re zoning out more than usual Dave, I think you’re tired.”

“….fine just? Sing me one more of your songs, please?”

He relents (finally!) after a few moments of static silence, and hums quietly. Your heart aches at the strained sound through your headphones, but you’re happy. It’s the little things that make everything he and you have gone through worth it. The sound of his voice through static and white noise after a few days of no calls is your reason you get up in the mornings, despite how bone tired you were from strifing with Bro, or working to save money for his trip to you, or staying up late with him the previous night.

His voice is hoarse, thick and coated with sadness and tears, but it just makes the song that much brighter and hopeful. John’s voice is quiet, but it gains volume the longer his hums and mumbles lyrics quietly. Finally you can hear the notes shine through, your lovely bluebird singing just for you you you  _you_.

When the song is finished, you’re in tears again and you can hear him hiccupping his own little quiet sobs, but you and he are smiling—his smile brighter, yours is a bare quirk of your lips; you’re saving the bigger smiles for when he’s there and  _in your arms_ —and he waves wildly at you.

“I love you Dave!”

The call disconnects before you have a chance to reply, but you know that’s his doing. He would always try to gain the upper hand with you, ending the call first starting saying I love you having the last word it was always something he wanted to do.

It’s endearing.

You slide away from your computer desk and make your way gingerly toward the bed. You flop on top of the sheets and inhale deeply, wishing you could figure out what your bed would smell like once John was there with you, wonder what the sheets would witness, what kinds of secrets you and he could share between them as you hold him tight to your body.

“I love you John.”


End file.
